Vincit qui patitur
by Forever Siriusly Sirius
Summary: He conquers who endures :: It is the winter of the year 2002. Voldemort has won. Hogwarts is all Slytherins, Muggleborns no longer exist, and the divide between Muggles and Wizards is greater than ever. Half bloods are barely tolerated, and Blood Traitors are being sent to re-education camps. Purebloods are supreme. Warnings inside. AU. volemort wins. :: For Paula.


_**A/N **_VoldemortWins!AU. Warnings:: Implied sextimes, implied almost rape, graphic and non graphic torture, incest, general darkness.

**Challenge**: Quidditch League, House Cup, GGE.

**Prompts**: Winter / Forgotten, Table, "I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I'm living."- Les Mis, "I Dreamed a Dream", Grey, Tragedy.

For Paula, you amazing person, I hope you like this.

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_It is the winter of the year 2002. Voldemort has won. Hogwarts is all Slytherins, Muggleborns no longer exist, and the divide between Muggles and Wizards is greater than ever. Half bloods are barely tolerated, and Blood Traitors are being sent to re-education camps. Purebloods are supreme._

You sit in your dark, bleary grey cell and you shiver. It's snowing outside, you think. It's the only way to explain how cold you are. You have nothing but the ragged clothes on your dirty back, and one tiny portion of a photograph. The photo was originally cut out from the Daily Prophet, all those years ago when you went to Egypt. The Death Eaters ripped it out of your hands and shredded it when they took you, so now all that is left is a small piece of Ron that you were able to salvage. You keep it hidden in your shirt, they don't look there. It's your little secret.

It all started when Harry lost the war. He went to find Voldemort, with some stupid idea that if he sacrificed himself it would all be over, that everyone would live happily ever after and Voldemort would spare you all. He was wrong. Death Eaters came after you family, with Malfoy and his slimy father leading them. The Burrow burned down, with your whole family still inside. You were spared; they wanted to make an example out of you because of what you did to them, especially during their reign at Hogwarts. You still don't know if any of them managed to survive. The uncertainty eats you alive.

You shiver again; partly from cold, partly from fear. You can't think of your family right now, it's hard enough to hold on to the faint light of sanity in the never ending darkness as it is, wondering about their fate will only make it harder. The urge to crawl up in a ball and cry builds; it climbs higher, a little bit everyday like ivy on an abandoned wall. Eventually, it will take over. But that day is not today, you think. I am a Gryffindor; it takes more than a miserable, grey cell to break me. And so the ivy reaches no higher. Not today.

They come for you the next day. After a week spent in this prison, having food pushed through a magically sealed flap in the door, you finally get some human contact. Two men come, in full black robes with their illuminated white masks the only source of colour in this black and grey nightmare. You're taken to a room, blindfolded, gagged, fear coursing through your veins like an addictive drug. As you are shoved forward, you hit something hard. Blindly, you grope around to figure out what it is. You can hear the jeers of the Death Eaters surrounding you, and you know you are showing more skin than you would like to in a room full of psychotic men. Your yellow dress that you had been wearing the day they took you is ripped, and barely makes it past your mid thighs anymore, and your tights are almost nonexistent. You wish someone would give you a blanket or something to cover yourself, but you know that that will never happen. Your nakedness makes you feel small, exposed to the harsh elements of the dark winter and whatever it has in store for you. The Death Eaters, you think, are like minions of winter. That is, harsh, dark, and unforgiving.

As your hands explore the table, they feel something soft, something that clearly does not belong to the table. The thing makes a small mew, a whimper of pain, and you freeze. You recognise the voice instantly. Ron. Your heart constricts, and the green ivy climbs the Gryffindor red wall a little higher. You feel around, realising that you found his arm. It is then that you notice the metallic smell of blood, and the stickiness of it beneath your fingers. You feel sick. You want to call to him, but the gag in your mouth is held there by magic and you can't. A small tear runs down your face. On one hand, you wish he had died in the fire so he wouldn't have had to suffer the fate he will now face at the hands of Voldemort, but then the selfish part of you is glad that you will have someone to endure these trials with you. You curse yourself for the part of you that is glad he is here.

You manage to make a strangled cry slip through your cracked lips, and his hand twitches in yours.

"Ginny?" he rasp's. You choke. The Death Eaters jeer in the background.

"How touching," one of them mocks. "Brother and sister...only two Weasels left in the litter...reunited at last."

"It is a sad day when we are forced to exterminate a pureblood family," a voice that you recognize as Lucius Malfoy drawls. "However, pruning the tree is necessary, one branch a small price to pay to keep the rest healthy. Don't you agree?"

He chuckled as you launch yourself in the direction of his voice. Anger overtakes you and your gag falls off.

You feel yourself grabbed around the waist, and your hand tears from the only member of your family you have left. You feel like throwing up as you struggle, still blind, against your captor. You scream, and snarl and the rage builds up like a fire. It hisses and spits and licks, and burns the hand that tries to put it out. Your captor yelps, as you bite his hand that dared try and silence you. Another Death Eater slaps you over the side of your face, causing you to cry out. It hurts, but it was worth it.

"Ginny!" Ron's croaky voice calls out a warning, a little too late.

The flash of red hits you and you scream. The fire changes, from anger to pain. This time, it's burning you. You with your brave Gryffindor red hair and your loyal Hufflepuff yellow dress. It burns your veins, going around and around your body, but not quite reaching your heart. Not yet.

You wake up, everything is supposed to grey but all you can see is red. Red of Ron's blood, red of the Cruciatus Curse, red of the flames that killed your family and red of the Gryffindor bravery you are supposed to posses.

Your blindfold is off. Ron kneels above you, his red hair long and his face haggard. You cling to him, the only family you have left. You never knew how alone you were until now. They're gone. They're all gone. George is now Fred and George again; Mum has become Mum and Dad once more and Bill, Charlie and Percy

You start to cry, partially because you've never physically been this sore before, and partially because the idea of your family being dead... You'll never hear another one of Bill's stories, never hear Charlie speak Romanian, never prank Percy, and never get teased by George. You'll never get to hold little Victoire again. Calling someone Phlegm is no fun if they are dead. Worst of all, is that you'll never have a mother again.

Ron holds you, his white shirt turns pink has your tears mingle with the red. You feel that bright light of sanity burn just a little less bright.

Next time, they take Ron. You are left alone with the _dripdripdrip _of a leaky pipe. Hypnotically, you watch the drops of water as they fall, noting the pattern.

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

_Drip._

Slowly the blue of the water changes to red.

_Drip_.

Molly's body falls.

_Drip_.

Bill's body falls.

_Drip_.

Charlie falls.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip._

Percy. George. Hermione. Harry.

_Drip._

They all fall down.

The insanity begins.

Ron returns, paler than the day when Hermione was killed in front of him for being a Muggle Born. You don't say anything as you gather him in your arms. This time, it is he that cries. You like the feeling of holding him in your arms, it makes you feel just a little bit less empty inside. The touch of human contact makes you realise just how much you crave it. Before Ron came, you'd been alone in this damn cell for Merlin knows how long, alone, with nothing but the _dripdripdrip_ of you slowly drowning in your grief. You never realised how much you need the feel of his arms around you, your head buried in his chest and his heartbeat steady against yours. You never realised how much you needed Ron. Until now.

"We'll get out of here, Ginny," he swears up and down every time. Every time you nod, he wipes your tears and you wipe his. Every time the hope that you will escape lessens and lessens.

The fire burns in your veins once more, licking and flickering, burning away at the bright light of sanity. You scream, and you scream, and you scream. They just laugh. The light gets smaller, the fire chipping away at its edges.

Curled up in Ron's arms, you find it hard to remember why you have this eternal sadness in your chest. You can't remember properly, but you think it had something to do with your family. Faces float by, so close you can almost touch them. Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George and...and...the screams haunt your brain. You can't think of the other names, the faces turn to blurs and screams get louder and louder and louder. Whimpering, you bring your hands to your ears. It's so loud, so deafening, why wont it stop? Why wont it stop?

You don't know if it is you screaming or him screaming or the voices inside your head screaming, all you know is that it wont stop.

They take Ron. They take you. They take Ron again. Then you again.

It's an endless cycle of burning fire and fading lights, of screams and blood and cries of 'make it stop'. _You're a Gryffindor, _one of the floating faces says. _Start acting like one._

You feel like you should know what being a Gryffindor means, but you don't. Ron doesn't know either.

(The screams get louder)

The next time Ron returns, he looks at you and he says, 'I know your name is Ginny, but I don't know who you are, or why you're here with me. Who are you?'

You look at him blankly. Who are you? You shrug helplessly, you don't know either. He doesn't seem to mind, he just holds you in his arms again and you fall asleep.

(The screams get louder)

One day, after the fire has burned down to a simmering flame, you aren't taken back to Ron. They take you to a different cell, directly opposite with a view into the fire room. It's much colder here, you think as you shiver. The curse of an underground cell in Winter. You pull your once yellow rags around you, they barely cover anything anymore.

The _dripdripdrip_ is louder in this room, there's two leaky pipes.

Drip. _Drip_. Drip. _Drip_.

You miss the boy, the one whose name you know but whose person you don't. You miss how strong his arms were around you, you miss the feeling of safety and comfort he provides. A flash of green and black appears in front of your face, accompanied by a little feeling that pricks at the back of your drowning mind. You don't reconise the face, and subsequently you push the feeling of something being wrong out of your mind.

The ache in your chest is back, like a slow burning, ice cold flame. You wish you had Ron and his fire to thaw it out.

Drip. _Drip_. Drip. _Drip_.

The sound of the leaking pipe is a repetitive beat, over and over and never ending. It's like the ticking of a clock, going, (Tick. _Tock_. Tick. _Tock), _in your head like a drum, rising and falling like the tide and driving you absolutely mad.

It's incessant, it doesn't stop, it's _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock _in your head _all the time. _Sometimes, you close your eyes, hands over your ears and you scream and scream and scream. Your mind is filled with images of Ron being tortured, as you can see the table where it happens. The walls aren't thick enough to shield you from his pain, so you scream to block out his screams.

Time goes past, the shadows on the wall grow darker, the screams inside your mind grow louder, they mingle with the blood curdling sounds you hear him make.

They take you again, this time instead of going to the table they push you against the wall. You struggle, and kick and scream and call out for Ron. You need Ron. But he doesn't come.

You wont go down without a fight, you tell yourself. You may be outnumbered, and your clothes are all but non existent, but there is no way in hell you are letting them invade your mind and your body.

(The screams get louder.)

You cry out as his hand reaches for you, you bite it in a desperate attempt to keep him at bay.

"Little bitch," he snarls, slapping you across the face. "You'll pay for this. How would you like to watch your precious little boyfriend squirm?"

Ron is brought out, and your heart jumps a little. Suddenly you feel very self conscious, not that he looks much better.

Then the screaming starts. His screams. Your screams. Their screams. The sound reverberates around your head, ricocheting of the sides of your skull, creating repetitive echo's over and over and over again. They reach a crescendo then fade to a pianissimo, only to rise again and then fall.

Fire burns through your veins, alternating between ice cold like an icicle, and red hot like a poker searing you from the inside out.

You can hear the tick tock of the clock again, even though the only sound in the room is that of the water dripping from the ceiling. The bright light fades, the fire burning off the edges. Freezing it first, then melting it. You watch your sanity go _drip drip drip _like water trickling down the drain. All your memories, everything you've ever known including the boy that you've come to rely on so heavily, go drip drip drip with it.

The fire sears your brain, you don't know anything anymore. All you can see is grey and red. Grey and red. Grey of this place, this dark, miserable, hell hole that, even though you don't remember, are sure you never would have wanted to live in. The red is this boy's hair. The boy whose name you cannot recall, but the boy that makes your heart go _thumpthumpthump_ whenever you see him. He is the boy who was erased from your brain, but the boy who your heart remembers. You need him. You need his warmth, you need his light in this abysmal hole of Hell. You need his red to counteract the grey.

As he lays in your arms, you watch the red trickle down his black and blue body. You don't know your name, you don't know who you are or where you are and what your doing in this place, all you know is him. You don't know his name either, his is one of the faces along with the black and green one that appears in your dreams the most. They float in front of your face, sometimes they are engulfed in fire, sometimes it is water. You are drowning and burning at the same time. They feed you fire, they melt you and degrade you and make your bright light fade; while the water chills you, fills you with an inexplicable aching sadness. He is the only thing that can make it better.

(The screams get louder.)

When he wakes up, he stares at you until you blush, his eyes filled not with the ravishing hunger of them, but with a much more intense look. A look filled with emotions that neither you nor he can understand.

"Who are you?"

You can only shrug, you don't know anymore then he does. As his eyes trail lower, you blush deeper as you realise that your rags are gone. The fire burned them off. You try to cover yourself with your arms, you're self conscious around him even though you know he wont hurt you like they did. He is almost as bare as you are, little more than a shred of cloth covering his waist is left. You admire him, his body is not perfect. It is covered in scars, and bruises and blood. Any muscle that was there has been lost with the time spent here. He is so skinny you can see his ribs. It is not an attractive body, and yet you think it beautiful.

Cautiously he reaches out a hand. You don't move.

"I don't know who you are, I don't even know who I am anymore. The only thing that I know is that I need you. You're the only reason I'm still shining, the only reason why the fire hasn't claimed me yet."

His hand reaches your cheek, the other hooks gently around your bare hip to draw you forward.

"I need you," he whispers again, his forehead touching yours, his bare chest so close to yours that there is literally no air between you.

Your eyes meet his.

"Then have me."

And he does. It is passionate and intense, a different kind of fire that you have never felt before. As he holds you in his arms, you know that this is the beginning of the final stage.

Tick. _Tock. _Tick. _Tock._

_(_Drip_. Drip. _Drip_. Drip.)_

They come for him. They chain you up against the wall, he is on the table. You know this is the end. Your light has all but faded, the screams and the ticking have gotten louder and louder and you hear your screams and his screams and their laughing and _you can't take it anymore._

His body is limp, it is as grey as the walls of the room and as red as his usually vibrant hair. You scream and scream, waiting to hear his voice join you. But there is nothing. Only laughter.

Green flies about the room, mixed with red, like Christmas. Except this is not Christmas. This is Hell.

The fire finally stops burning you up, maybe because there is nothing left to burn anymore. He is gone. The blackness claims you once and for all, and just as your light is about to go out for good, you swear you see a flash of red.

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A/N. Please review and tell me what you think! I'm quite proud of this.

xx

Liza


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